Chapter 30

The corridors of St. Xavier’s were quiet after hours, emptied of the laughter and chatter of students. The sun had set, and the last traces of orange faded into the dark sky outside. Only the soft glow of lamps lit the staff room now, where Poornima gathered her books slowly, her movements unhurried, lost in thought.

She had chosen to stay late to finish notes for her next lecture on romantic poetry. The building was calmer at this hour, and in that calm, she could breathe freely—away from her family’s expectations, away from judgments. Here, she was simply herself.

The creak of the staff room door pulled her out of her quiet world.

Veeresh Raj entered. He was still in his formal shirt, sleeves slightly rolled up, his tie loosened just enough to suggest he’d had a long day. Yet his presence was as magnetic as ever—sharp, controlled, commanding.

For a moment, neither spoke. She stood at her desk with her book in hand; he leaned against the edge of his, his dark eyes fixed on her.

“Still here, Miss Rai?” His voice was low, steady, carrying both curiosity and something more.

She gave a small smile. “I like the silence here after everyone leaves.” She hesitated, then added softly, “It listens better than people do.”

His gaze deepened, unreadable. He took a step closer. “And what is it that you want silence to hear?”

Her breath caught, but her eyes did not flinch. “That I belong here. Even if no one else thinks I do.”

The words hung between them, and for once, Veeresh had no lecture, no clever remark. His eyes softened—just slightly—as though he understood more than he should.

He closed the distance by another step. She could feel the quiet weight of his presence now, the way the air seemed to thicken between them.

“Two days I was away,” he said quietly, almost more to himself than to her, “and you made new friends. You spoke to Pavan as though you’ve known him for years.”

Poornima blinked, startled by the edge in his tone. But her voice remained calm. “He needed help. That’s all. Why does it matter to you, Mr. Raj?”

Her eyes searched his, waiting, daring him to answer.

For a heartbeat, his eyes gave it away. The storm. The unspoken admission. Because it matters more than it should.

But his lips curved into a faint, guarded smile. “Just curious, Miss Rai. That’s all.”

Her lashes lowered, hiding the flicker of something she felt. “Curiosity can be dangerous, Mr. Raj.”

Their eyes locked again—her calm defiance against his controlled intensity. Neither spoke, but in that silence, both hearts raced faster than either would admit.

Finally, she broke the moment, gathering her books and stepping away. “Good night, Mr. Raj.”

He watched her walk past him, her steps steady, her back straight. But before she disappeared through the door, she glanced once over her shoulder.

Her eyes held a question. His held an answer.

And neither needed words.